


Eat You Alive

by Fudgyokra



Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Again sort of, Age Difference, Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Clubbing, Dammit Wally, Dick Aims To Please, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Featuring just a smidge of Jason/Kori and Wally/Random Club Stranger, Hook-Up, Humor, M/M, Master/Servant, Mentions of Wally/Dick, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Rough Oral Sex, Slade is kind of a creep, Some Humor, Sort Of, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-06 19:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12217770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: Didn’t your daddy ever teach you not to talk to strangers?





	Eat You Alive

Nightclubs had never really been his thing before, but he could definitely see them becoming his thing. Dick’s ride-or-die, as he liked to call himself, had just introduced him to the coolest place that side of Jump City, which he declared he’d had “plenty of time” to scope out.

Dick’s argument against it was thin. “Wally, you’re only a month older than I am. How many clubs could you possibly have been to?”

Wally’s grin stretched comically across his freckled face. “A month is four weekends worth of partying, Dickie-bird. Trust me when I say this place is the best.” Beside him, Kori and Jason exchanged excited grins. “Plus, being under twenty-one doesn’t mean you can’t still dance at clubs whenever you want. It’s just a lot less fun sober.”

“Well, you could bring a fake ID,” Jason said, eyes glinting maniacally.

“Jason—” Dick started to object, but he’d barely gotten the name out before Jason was dashing toward the bar with a giggling Kori in tow.

Wally smiled at him. “You ready for your first legal drink?”

“That,” Dick answered with a hand on the other’s shoulder, “is a stupid question, my friend.”

//

He didn’t think any of them remembered how many hours or drinks later the party got interesting. All Dick knew was that it _had_ gotten interesting, apparently without him, since it was Jason and Kori who were grinding on the dance floor like they were having sex through their clothes, and Wally who’d hooked up with some guy in a goddamn suit and tie somewhere near the back bathrooms.

So, for his twenty-first birthday celebration, Dick ended up alone at the bar.

His friends weren’t _terrible_ , just inconsiderate when drunk, he figured. Still, his cloud of annoyance must have been noticeable to passers-by, because one of them stopped to sit beside him.

“I don’t suppose you’re looking for a pick-me-up,” the man said, brushing a hand gingerly through his hair.

Dick couldn’t think of a polite way to say, “Fuck off, old man,” before he realized who he was looking at. “Ugh, Slade,” he muttered, feeling dourer than before. “What a great surprise.”

“Hey, now, little one.” Slade smiled at him, as handsome and obnoxious as Dick always remembered him.

“Don’t call me that,” he replied, swiping his glass to his face to stubbornly try and drink the trickle of liquid left beneath the melting ice cubes. To his annoyance, Slade laughed. And _god_ that laugh hadn’t changed, either; it was still deep, smooth, and enchanting. Before drunk Dick could process it, he was looking dumbly at the man’s mouth.

Slade was never oblivious, nor was he subtle. With a wry grin, he waved the bartender over. “What do you like?” he asked, voice falsely sweet and distractingly laced with undertones that Dick couldn’t possibly miss—drunk, stupid, or otherwise.

“To drink?” he asked.

Slade’s eye glittered. “That, too.”

He set his mouth into a thin line and looked over his shoulder, finding Jason and Kori with their hands still all over each other, laughing, red-faced at something. Dick couldn’t imagine what was so damn funny. When he looked back at Slade, the man was turned toward the bartender, saying something to him that Dick didn’t catch.

“You’re not telling him to slip roofies into my drink, are you?” he asked, honestly not sure if he was joking or not.

“Ahh, so, you _are_ going to let me buy you a drink?” Slade teased, bringing a scowl to Dick’s face. “I don’t know what the younger crowd cares for, so I got you a beer.”

“Thanks,” Dick answered. He hoped he wasn’t slurring and tried hard to sit up straight and presentable.

“Tried and true,” Slade said, almost to himself. He studied Dick with a recognizable fascination, one that made Dick’s stomach turn and other parts of him confused about what they wanted. His eye scanned, considered, moved on to the next point on his body like it was a map, and suddenly Dick was a little embarrassed that Wally had goaded him into wearing that stupid mesh top.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he said. He’d never really been flirted with at a bar, though, and something about that felt decidedly neat. Even if it _was_ Slade Wilson: A former bitter enemy, not to mention twice his age.

The bartender, thankfully, derailed his thoughts by bringing him his beer, plus a fresh glass of whatever the other man had been drinking before.

“A picture might be nice,” Slade answered casually. He held his cup out for a toast, which Dick afforded him. He supposed that much wouldn’t kill him.

Then, before he could think better of it, he smiled sweetly and uncrossed his legs, turning his chair toward the other in an inviting gesture. Then, when he was sure he’d made his acceptance of the drink obvious, he crossed his legs again, thigh over thigh, the tight fabric of his jeans pulling taut.

Slade’s gaze did not wander inconspicuously. “My, it has been a while since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?” he asked, looking back up at Dick’s face to see him smiling prettily with all his teeth, his face pink across the bridge of his nose from all the drinks he’d had throughout the evening.

“Thank god for that,” Dick replied, letting his grin rise into a dimpled smirk.

“Always so funny, Robin,” Slade said, his own version of a cheeky retort that turned Dick’s expression into a petulant frown.

“Shut up,” he muttered, before taking a swig of his beer. “That’s not my gig anymore.”

“Oh, trust me. I know.”

“Don’t act like you know me at all,” Dick said with a scoff, knocking back another drink like he needed it to live.

“Did I miss the part where we weren’t acquainted?” Slade asked. “In that case, I have to wonder: Didn’t your daddy ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” Dick grumbled in response, but he didn’t move when Slade’s hand settled on his knee. “Because, you know, strangers only see what’s on the surface, and what they see when they look at you…is a pretty little boy willing to give them anything they want because he’s desperate.”

Dick bared his canines. “Desperate? For what, exactly?”

Slade hummed out a little laugh, then retracted his hand and took a drink. “Affection…validation…acceptance.”

“I have those things.”

“Then perhaps something more suited to a hotel room on East End.”

Dick had known it was coming, but it still made a dumb, giddy grin etch its way across his face. “Actually, you might be onto something with that last one.”

“But your friends…” Slade said in false concern, not at all like he gave a shit about Dick’s friends or his prospective desertion of them.

“They’ve got rides.” He leaned forward in his seat perhaps a little obviously so he could drag his fingers down Slade’s collar. “They’ll be fine.”

“In that case,” Slade began with a pleased smile curling his lips, which now ghosted dangerously close to Dick’s jaw, “follow me.”

//

The door had barely clicked closed before Slade threw him down on the bed, making him erupt into drunken giggles that were silenced by the other man’s mouth, moving against his own while his hands ran up his body possessively.

“Mm, scotch,” Dick commented, threading his fingers through Slade’s hair and pulling him close for another kiss. When they parted, it was only by millimeters. “I didn’t think you were the refined type of old-guy drinker.”

“I suggest you watch your tongue, little one,” Slade replied, reaching up to grab Dick’s jaw and smiling victoriously when the younger man’s pupils blew wide at the rough contact. “It’s good to see that some things never change,” he all but purred, lowering his hand to Dick’s neck and watching with interest as his chin tilted up, allowing him to tighten his grip.

“If you don’t stop thinking about me as a teenager, I’m going to kick your ass,” Dick said.

“Trust me, I much prefer you grown. Although, you were awfully precious back then.” Dick, expectedly, went red in the face. “You could have… _should_ have stayed on as my apprentice. Think of all the things we could have accomplished.”

“And in the free time?” Dick asked, letting his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“You can use your imagination,” Slade answered easily, sliding his free hand into the front of Dick’s pants. “I certainly am.”

“Yeah?” Dick asked, lifting a hand to grip Slade’s wrist. His fingers were still locked securely around his neck—not hard enough to restrict air flow, but enough to leave a slight pressure. “Are we hearkening back, here? Do you want me to call you ‘Master’?” He didn’t anticipate the way Slade bit his lip and tightened his grip the slightest bit, but damned if he didn’t enjoy the reaction. “Touch me,” he commanded, wiggling his hips.

“Ah-ah,” Slade said, leaning down closer to his face. “A good apprentice makes no demands.”

A strange, hiccup-y laugh bubbled in Dick’s throat. “I don’t think I’d fit in the costume anymore.”

“You were a skinny thing back then,” Slade agreed, sweeping his tongue across Dick’s jugular and moving to nip underneath his ear. Below, his hand had worked Dick’s jeans open and was now palming him through his underwear. It wasn’t nearly enough friction, but Dick was a patient man.

“Not quite like that anymore,” he said, smiling proudly.

“Mm, no. I appreciate having a skilled student much better…but you did have such a cute little ass in that outfit.” He chuckled darkly when Dick squirmed, his mouth tilting downward.

“You’re a fuckin’ creep,” he said.

“I didn’t say you could talk,” Slade returned evenly, lifting a hand up, palm toward him. He almost laughed at the way Dick’s eyes went wide, glinting hungrily like he _dared_ him. And he was not one to shy away from a dare. His palm contacted Dick’s cheek with a satisfying _smack_ that left him open-mouthed and grunting against the pillow. “Apologize.”

“S-sorry,” Dick stammered, back to wiggling his hips.

Slade slapped him again. “We’re forgetting our manners.”

Dick keened when Slade rubbed a finger into the slit in his boxers, stroking with annoying slowness. “Sorry, Master,” he grated out, feeling a flush of shame creep across the sting of the handprint left behind.

“Good boy,” Slade praised. “You might have _always_ been so obedient. But don’t worry, good boys get rewards.”

Dick hoped he didn’t outwardly brighten at the thrill that ran down his spine, but he suspected he had, judging by Slade's pleased hum when he began undoing his own pants. “Clothes off,” he demanded, snapping his fingers as if Dick were a dog. And Dick _leapt_ at it, something he would surely regret later but for now seemed like a perfectly fine idea.

It wasn’t until he was on hands and knees in front of Slade’s intimidating erection that he realized the full weight of what was going on here.

“Don’t act like you’ve never sucked cock before,” Slade said with a chuckle. “A pretty mouth like that has definitely seen some action.” Dick colored, but the way he scowled and said nothing only proved the assumption right. Satisfied, Slade went on. “Open.”

Mechanically, Dick parted his lips, looking on with drunken reverence as Slade stroked himself a few times in front of his face, until a shiny thread of precum leaked out and made Dick’s mouth water. Within seconds he was halfway down on him, hollowing his cheeks just like Wally had taught him and—he tried to move farther and gagged, pulling back abruptly to wipe the saliva off the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t ever gotten that far.

“Is that all you’ve got, Robin?” Slade goaded, as he always had, with frustrating calmness. His hand guided Dick’s head forward again, and Dick opened his mouth again, lips shiny, expectant for when Slade bucked his hips forward, gagging him with a rather undignified sound.

This time he coughed, but admitting defeat was never one of his strong suits, and so he tried again, slowly, slowly, inch by inch, digging his nails into his palm to distract himself from the strangeness of having something touching the back of his throat.

He looked up with watery eyes, and Slade took a shaky breath at the sight of him. _Success._ He couldn’t exactly suck without choking, but he did manage to get him all the way down and swallow once, content with the way Slade growled and fisted a hand in his hair, even when he pulled back into his comfort zone. He’d barely gotten to be enthusiastic about it before his head was being pulled back, leaving his tongue lolling as he whined at the loss.

Slade wiped the bottom half of his face and took another shivery breath. “Good. Very good.”

Dick was no stranger to positive reinforcements in that field, despite the fact he’d only ever sucked off one guy before, but something about the way it sounded coming from someone other than Wally made him feel pretty damn proud of himself. In the midst of his self-congratulation, he got cocky. “Don’t tell me you’re close already, old man.”

The corner of Slade’s mouth crooked upward, and his hand wound into Dick’s hair again with such abrupt harshness that Dick found himself off his guard when he was pulled forward onto Slade’s cock, until it was in the back of his throat again.

He made what was probably a pathetic choking noise when Slade kept thrusting into him, gagging him with every go and looking down at him with a grin. “I didn’t teach you to be a smartass,” he said, pulling back just enough for Dick to gasp in a single breath and then forcing himself back in.

By the time he pulled out again, Dick was a panting, drooling mess with a sore throat and an aching erection, and all patience he’d had before went out the window. “Now,” he rasped, draping his arms around Slade’s shoulders. “Want it now.”

“I can’t hear you…” Slade said, voice smooth and calm as ever. Always irritating, how put-together he seemed to be when Dick was falling apart at the seams.

“Please, Master,” he said, obediently, letting the shame burn through his cheeks with a sick sort of enjoyment.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

The instant Slade got a firm grip around him, Dick felt ready to burst. “ _Ahh_ ,” he sighed out, canting his hips. “Yes, _please_.”

“I’m afraid, little bird,” Slade started, taking his hand away and reveling in the way Dick whined in frustration, mouth open like he was ready to beg, “that I’ve got a little more planned for you before you’re allowed to cum.”

Dick’s pupils were blown as he watched him shuffle around for something in his bag. Something he had a good idea of. His heart hammered, and he found himself taking a deep breath.

“Nervous?” Slade asked, perfectly civil and sweet, but it still made Dick scowl.

“No,” he lied.

“You _have_ done this before, haven’t you?” Slade didn’t seem like he cared about the answer, rather that he was trying to drop him down a peg.

Dick huffed. “I have.”

“Tell me, was it that attractive blue-eyed boy you brought along? Or the redheaded one?”

Dick didn’t know why it seemed stupid to admit, but he could hardly seem to stammer out an answer. “Uh, err, the second one.”

Slade pressed gently on his chest when he came back up, and Dick took the hint and leaned back on his hands. “Have you ever thought of the first?” he asked, grabbing him hard by the ankle and yanking him toward himself until his head hit the pillow and he gasped out a startled admittance.

“On accident.”

Slade dug his nails into his skin and yanked his leg to the side. “Don’t forget your manners.”

“I—I did. I have, Master,” he breathed, lifting his arms above his head so that Slade could come pin his wrists with one hand.

“What would they say if they could see you now?” he purred, capturing Dick’s mouth again in a heated mark of ownership while he uncapped the bottle with a telltale _click_ below.

Dick’s face colored again, and he pushed the thought out of his head. “Don’t care,” he said, only for Slade to pull away from him.

“Oh, no, little one. I want to know.” With a serious expression, he looked down to consider him, pressing two wet fingers to his hole in a way that made Dick twitch with anticipation. “Do you think they’d stay and watch?”

“I—they—” Dick swallowed hard and closed his eyes at the feeling of being opened up, little by little. He’d done it plenty of times with Wally, but the first part never got any less weird. “Maybe,” he admitted, frowning, embarrassed at the thought. “I don’t—”

“Speak only when you are spoken to,” Slade said harshly, as he looked down with admiration at Dick’s flushed face.

“Yes, Master.”

“I think you’d like it,” he continued, working him until he could add another finger, and then until Dick was grinding down on his hand, practically begging for all intents and purposes. Slade wasn’t going to let him get away without verbalizing it, though. “So, if your friends were standing right here…what would you say?”

“I—mm,” Dick said, worrying his lip when Slade pressed into him, just the barest bit, only a taste. He stilled, so Dick huffed and looked toward the ceiling. “I don’t think I—”

“Wrong answer,” Slade chided, sitting up and pushing the other’s thighs back, holding them as he rolled his hips in shallow little dips, only teasing, not affording him any sort of pleasure just yet.

“Please, Master,” Dick begged, tilting his head away. “I’d—I don’t care if they’re watching, I want you to…”

“Yes, little one?” Slade pushed, hooking his thumbs under Dick’s knees and leaning forward to bury himself deeper, achingly slowly and not at all what Dick wanted.

The pleasant drunkenness was wearing off to warm tipsiness now, though, and the situation was suddenly a lot more humiliating than he felt it’d been earlier. With a timid shake in his voice, he answered, “Fuck me, Master.”

“Good,” Slade praised, snapping his hips forward with such suddenness that Dick cried out, likely loud enough to annoy neighbors and definitely loud enough to encourage necessary roughness. Slade was by no means a gentle lay, Dick thought, and he could tell from the way his fingers pressed into his legs that there were going to be bruises later.

He was fast, hard and unforgiving, and Dick’s throat was raw by the time he came, halfway from giving head and halfway from screaming.

Slade offered him a pleasant grin when he grabbed his hips and drew him closer, bending over him and jerking his hips forward, hitting something that immediately made the younger man’s cock twitch back to life. “Not so easily sated,” he teased.

Well, Wally had never been able to do _that_.

“Please, god, please—” he begged, eyes watering so badly he had to squeeze them closed. “Fuck— _Slade_.”

It wasn’t “Master,” but he wasn’t about to argue at this point. Instead, he graciously obliged, fucking him until he was folded in half, yelling out slurred mixtures of Slade’s name and colorful curses as he dug his nails into the other’s shoulders hard enough to draw blood.

Dick made a surprised sound—something of a choked moan—when Slade wrapped his hand around his cock and began to stroke in time with his thrusts, bringing him crashing down a second time in shuddering, wailing release with his hands scraping down his back.

When he let go of him, Dick was babbling hotly against his ear, words of encouragement interspersed with pleased moans of “ _Yes_ , _Master”_ that dripped off his lips in such a sinful way that Slade did not last long after.

He grunted, then focused his weight on his forearms, breathing heavily into the crook of Dick’s neck while he basked. It had been a long time since he’d cum like that, for sure. He didn’t really expect it when Dick drew his face closer with his hands, into a sloppy, contented kiss.

“You came inside,” he muttered dumbly, already half asleep thanks to exertion, combined with the impressive cocktail of drinks he’d consumed throughout the night.

Slade chuckled and pulled out, looking at the mess he’d created with pride. “I don’t suppose you’d be keen on doing this again?” he asked, scooting to the edge of the bed and putting his feet to the floor.

The silence alerted him to the fact that Dick had already passed out, splayed across the dead center of the bed like he owned it.

Despite himself, Slade smiled fondly. “What a trip,” he murmured to himself, rising to fix a cup of coffee that he desperately needed.

//

When Dick finally woke up, it was noon, and there were ten missed calls on his cell phone. Not good.

Unbelievably, he felt fine aside from a mild headache, but he was thirsty as shit for one thing and sore as shit for another. Goddamn Slade, he thought. He sat up, and all at once seemed to remember where he was.

Extra not good. There was etiquette to this, wasn’t there? He was supposed to have been out of there forever ago, and Slade was…where was he?

He didn’t stick around to find out. He cleaned up to some extent and redressed, snatching Slade’s jacket on the way out to cover his essentially useless shirt and to shield all the offending marks from prying eyes. He barely had one foot past the threshold when the door next to his room opened as well, and a sleepy-looking Wally toddled out, looking a little worse for wear.

When Wally spotted him, his grin was Cheshire-esque.

“Wally?” Dick asked, horrified. He blinked as if that would somehow turn Wally into…well, just about anyone else on the fucking planet. “Please tell me you weren’t—”

“Next door? Oh, yeah, baby. I hooked up with this real cute dude, right. Don’t remember his name, but that’s beside the point.” He started toward the breakfast hall, so Dick tailed him, sincerely hoping that somehow Wally hadn’t heard a thing or had at least forgotten in his drunken stupor.

“Have fun?” he asked after a while, smiling fondly at him as he droned on.

Wally smiled back, deceptively sweet for his next words. “Not as much fun as you, Dickie-bird.” Dick’s smile melted away and was replaced with an annoyed frown, as Wally’s shit-eating grin only grew. “What a set of pipes, man. I’ve never heard you yell like that before.”

“Hush,” he said, hitting the elevator button with perhaps a little more force than necessary before crossing his arms across his chest.

“Who did you leave with, anyway? I never got to see! Was he hot? Do I know him?”

“Wally,” Dick warned, agitated.

The elevator opened and Slade stepped out with a plate of bagels in hand, making Dick’s expression wither which such speed that Wally couldn’t help but put two and two together. “Oh…oh, no. Dickie-bird, tell me you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Slade asked, his mouth quirking up just the slightest bit to show that he knew _damn_ well what. “Good morning, Grayson.” He looked appreciatively at the one hickey that was too high for his jacket collar to hide. “Taking off with my things, are we?”

Dick muttered something and pushed past him to get into the elevator. Hesitantly, Wally joined him, and they watched as Slade continued down the hall as if nothing had happened. Finally, the elevator doors slid closed.

“He put his number in my phone,” Dick said, scrolling through his messages—all from Kori and Jason, of course, wondering where the hell he’d gone.

“You gonna call him?” Wally asked, scratching his stomach.

“Why would I?”

“Dude, you don’t get fucked that good and then just leave. You were hollering your brains out, man, like—”

“Okay, I get it,” Dick hissed, face brightening as he relived it all over again.

They fell into silence, until, at length, Wally regarded him with a positively devilish grin. “…‘Master’?”

Dick promptly and aggressively punched him in the arm.


End file.
